


Feeling Blue

by Jeanielynn



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Female Apprentice (The Arcana), POV Apprentice, POV Third Person, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-02
Updated: 2020-08-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:28:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25674349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jeanielynn/pseuds/Jeanielynn
Summary: Should she stop asking questions? Even if he said it was good to ask… but sometimes it seemed like he said one thing but meant another. And sometimes it seemed like the questions were wrong, and it made him sad, and she didn’t know why. She tried, she really, really did, to figure out what connected all the bad questions, but she never could.
Relationships: Apprentice & Asra (The Arcana), Apprentice/Asra (The Arcana)
Kudos: 17





	Feeling Blue

**Author's Note:**

> Set pre-game, but after the resurrection. Featuring the POV of my apprentice Sidonia.  
> Sid's dialogue is intentionally missing a few words here and there to show that she still has trouble speaking, but I didn't keep that up for the non-dialogue parts because… Well, because it's pretty hard to write readable, cohesive prose from the POV of someone who can barely speak. And because it is written in third person so the text isn't strictly her thoughts anyway.

“Is there something on your mind?” Asra ask, his airy voice unperturbed. His attention was still firmly occupied by the aged pages of a slim leather-bound journal that creaked ominously every time he shifted around in his nest of pillows and blankets to find a new comfy reading position. His soft lilac eyes ran to and fro across the pages, scampering along the loopy script in effortless haste. Much prettier than the letters she knew of. He said they meant the same, though. How could it be the same if it was also different?

“Sidny? Are you alright?” he prompted again, less carefree this time. She hummed something vaguely affirmative in response, hoping it would be enough that he’d didn’t feel the need to get up and start fussing over her. He did that a lot. Now that she’d started speaking with some frequency, he always took her silence as an ill omen, as if the months she spent completely mute never happened at all. It didn’t bother her per se, because it felt rude to be bothered when someone was only worried about you, even if she never really understood what he was worried about… But it made _her_ feel like a bother, and she didn’t like that.

Yet she remained intensely focused, even as she could see how he cocked his head and tried to catch her gaze, she never looked away from the latest victim of her curiosity. A drop of vivid blue, bright like the sea at the height of summer, resting against tanned bronze skin. Probably what had caught his attention to begin with. _I can feel you staring_ , he’d explained once, and she couldn’t understand that either. Looking didn’t feel like anything to her. With every breath he took the droplet that was definitely not really a drop caught the sunlight, twinkling like a star with the rise and fall of his chest. Did stars twinkle because they moved, too?

She opened her mouth to offer some kind of actual reply, or explanation of sorts, or anything at all. Nothing came. Always a million questions, and never enough of _anything_ to explain them. She could read well enough by now, but speaking was so much harder. Like the sounds didn’t really fit in her mouth, as if her voice didn’t want to be heard. The words came slowly to her, each one picked with great care and strung together one after the other like a string of pearls if she wanted to have any hope of speaking a whole sentence that didn’t just trail off into oblivion. Asra was always patient though, always kind. He never chastised and certainly never mocked when she messed something up. But when she got it right he’d praise her, and she liked that. So she kept trying, even if it was hard.

But the word she needed didn’t come to her. Exasperated, she resigned herself to make do without it.

“Your-” she made a gesture towards her neck to fill in for the missing term-“where from?”

“My necklace?” He mirrored her motion, his fingers lightly brushing the golden band around his throat. “This one?”

“Blue one.”

A furrow appeared between his brows. “Why do you ask?”

“It’s… blue.” There was a moment of silence, as Asra no doubt waited for an explanation. Or elaboration. Or just a statement that actually made sense. He might be a magician, but he was no mind reader. Would that even help, when her mind was such a mess? It was hard to make sense when the words were so confining and her thoughts so free. Words were always the same, but within her mind everything moved like dancing fire, always changing and reshaping with every passing moment. And yet she tried, like she always did. With a deep breath and another moment of deliberation, piecing the sentence together bit by bit and running it over in her head, she voiced it. Slowly, perhaps, but with determination. “You… don’t wear blue. You have other things in gold, in… in most every color… But nothing else blue. Only that.”

“Oh. I guess that’s true.” He put the book down against his chest and leaned back among the pillows, looking up at the ceiling like it might offer some insight. With the necklace – and she really should try to remember that word this time – hidden from view her dark eyes followed his, and the only insight she found was that one of them really needed to dust soon. “It... was a gift. From a dear friend of mine.”

“Important friend?” When she looked back at him Asra was the one staring, a look that she couldn’t place, but it made her look away and sink down lower into her chair, like she’d done something wrong. “You never take it off… I thought…”

“Nothing gets past you, does it?” Sidonia was pretty sure that almost everything got past her, especially when Asra followed his words with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be. You’re just curious. It’s a good thing to be.”

It didn’t feel like a good thing, not when he looked so… So _something_. Like she had hurt him, but she never meant to. Should she stop asking questions? Even if he said it was good to ask… but sometimes it seemed like he said one thing but meant another. And sometimes it seemed like the questions were wrong, and it made him sad, and she didn’t know why. Sidonia tried, she really, really did, to figure out what connected all the bad questions, but she never could. All she knew was that she didn’t want him to be sad. He was so kind, he deserved to be happy. Blinking away the beginnings of tears, she decided to drop the subject and do something other than just being a bother. A new pot of tea would be nice. Maybe it’d even cheer up Asra again.

She swooped past the little bedside table and grabbed his old cup, long since empty, on her way to the kitchen area. All while being very careful to avoid meeting his eyes even as they followed her. If he knew she was sad, he’d be sadder, and then he’d start fussing, and she’d just be more of a bother. Again. With her back to him she tried to breathe deeply, centering herself like he had taught her – because of course he had, he had thought her everything, and she should probably stop demanding more and just be happy with all he had already given her – and went to work.

While words were hard and her voice uncooperative, her hands were quick and clever, as if they were already used to all the things she had only barely been shown how to do. The stove salamander was woken with a gentle knocking against the cooktop, and she coaxed a little fire from the creature with the bribe of a few woodchips. Leaves were carefully spooned into an earthenware teapot from a little container labeled with the words _lapsang souchong_ , which she could read but not pronounced, because it was Asra’s favorite. Then she got two cups and put milk and honey in her own, because it really wasn’t her favorite.

Asra seemed to still be lost in thoughts, his book long since forgotten where it rested protectively over his heart as he kept eyeing the ceiling with narrowed gaze and furrowed brows. The clinking of porcelain when she placed the saucer and then cup on the bedside table even appeared to startle him. He sat up and stretched, shook the snowy curls from his face, then gave her a smile that almost didn’t seem forced.

“It smells good. Thank you.”

Sidonia only gave him a lackluster smile in return. She didn’t have any more words for today. And no more questions.

+++

She rose with the sun the next morning, early enough to see the rosy blush of dawn spread along one horizon while the vestiges of starry shadows still clung to the other. It was nothing unusual, Sidonia was not usually one to sleep in.

But Asra was, and yet the bed was empty but for her. That was very unusual.

After some rudimentary detective work, she found him in the backroom downstairs, seated by the table he used for tarot readings. There was a little wooden box on the table next to him that she didn’t remember seeing before, with intricately carved poppies painted in shades of sanguine and scarlet. The room was more Asra’s domain than hers; He was the fortune teller, she was only an apprentice, and no matter how much he praised her talent it was pretty difficult to pass on the words of the Arcana when you didn’t have very many words of your own. Even so, she knew the room well enough that the box caught her attention as something out of place. It was so pretty, though. She loved flowers, but poppies most of all. Why had she never seen it before?

He caught her looking, as he so often did, and gestured for her to sit. His other hand was toying with the blue droplet pendant, fidgeting with the smooth stone almost as if he was worried about something. Despite that, he seemed to be in a good mood.

“I have something for you,” he said with a smile as he slid the little box across the table. “A gift. Here, open it.”

It took her a moment to work up the courage to pick it up. She ran her thumb over the delicate floral carvings, all smooth curves and rich, glossy paint. With great care she popped the lid off and found a small velvet pouch. She looked at him with doubt, but he only nodded in encouragement, so she unpicked the knotted drawstring and retrieved the content.

Two crystal-clear drops of blue fashioned into earrings. Sidonia didn’t really know what she expected, but it wasn’t this.

“They belong with the necklace, but I can't wear them. You could. If you… if you want to.” Asra explained, still with one hand on his own pendant.

She wanted to. They were _so_ pretty. With all the restraint her little heart could muster, she put them back on the table. “They're yours. They're important to you.”

“ _You're_ important to me, Sidny,” he said with great emphasis. Leaning over the table to stroke an errant honey-hued lock behind her ear, his fingers lingered against her jawline as he gently tilted her chin up so their eyes met. “And they'd suit you. Blue is your color. Always has been.”

**Author's Note:**

> Have y'all noticed that Asra actually doesn't wear blue? Purple, yes, sometimes purple that leans towards blue. But never true blue, not a blue that matches his pendant necklace. (Not counting the outfit Nadia gives him, which y'know, was a gift and not something he chose)  
> You know who does wear a lot of blue though? My apprentice.
> 
> I sold my soul to the Devil for this game. Jokes on him, it ain't worth shit.  
> Sometimes I pretend like I can actually write, and once in a blue moon it might turn out decent enough to post here. I'd love some feedback or comments to fuel that delusion, pretty please!
> 
> Check out my other Arcana thing over on Tumblr, the [Prologue Preservation Project!](https://yaaqu3.tumblr.com/)


End file.
